Brendan Carroll's Blog: Working my way back - Posts Tagged "magic"
Books on Sale
Amazon has kindly put the Red Cross of Gold I:. the Knight of Death and Book II:. the King of Terrors on sale for only $1.99. How books are chosen for these sales or discounts is mysterious, but at least it helps the readers and the authors whenever they decide to discount books. I only wish that they would give the author heads up so that we can promote the discounts in our blogs and such.
Upcoming, the Red Cross of Gold XVIII:. The Company of Women is currently under final revision and will soon be released for sale at amazon.com.
Upcoming, the Red Cross of Gold XVIII:. The Company of Women is currently under final revision and will soon be released for sale at amazon.com.
SampleSunday ~ Chapter
The Red Cross of Gold XXI:. The Dead Confess No Sins ~ Assassin Chronicles
Chapter Six of Eighteen
Excellent speech becometh not a fool:
much less do lying lips a prince
“Where do you suppose he is?” Montague paced the floor in the Grand Master’s bedchamber.
“Simon said he left him in the meadow,” the Grand Master answered.
He sat on the edge of the bed and laboriously pulled off one boot. He tossed it in the corner of the near bare room and went after the other one.
“Don’t you think it a bit strange that he did not come home for supper?” The Seneschal frowned. Each time he began to think that Luke Matthew was not responsible for their plight, the Knight of the Orient would do something new that brought suspicion upon him. Only that morning, Montague had spied him having a heated argument with the one called Bombarik. Luke had yet to explain this creature sufficiently as far as Montague was concerned. The Ifrit as Luke called him, was another of the Djinni race and Montague wanted nothing to do with him. He well remembered how Lemarik had come to be entangled in their business. Now here was another one. “I saw him arguing with that yellow Djinni this morning! I don’t trust that one. He is not of the same ilk as the purple wizard.” William stopped to stare at d’Brouchart. “Your Grace! You don’t suppose that Luke Matthew might be this one’s father as Mark Ramsay is Lemarik’s father?”
“Oh, I doubt that.” The Grand Master fluffed up his two small pillows, frowned at them and then leaned back against the heavy wooden headboard. It was great to get off his feet for a while. “Luke Matthew is not nearly as old as his brother. You know that!”
“Of course.” Montague went back to his pacing. This was another fact that bothered him about the so-called ‘twin brothers’. “But I believe that we should watch that relationship closely. They are not on the best of terms and the Djinni could be dangerous. He has a… look about him.”
“And so we shall.” D’Brouchart closed his eyes. He had not spent so much time on horseback in ages. He was extremely glad that the preparations were made and for better or worse, they were ready for the dragon. What concerned him was how they would get back to Scotland or anywhere else afterwards. Snaring or slaying the dragon in no way meant that a path would be opened for them to leave this place. He missed his daily swims.
“But Luke has been very worried about his wife!” Montague continued. “He has expressed his concerns to Simon on several occasions. She is advanced in her pregnancy. Much more so than I would like to see. It can only mean that we have been here much longer than it seems. She looks about to burst at any second and I am not happy with this situation. What will we do if she has problems? I would hate to have to deal with the Knight if something went awry with the woman.”
“He would be a problem. That much is certain. Without his brother here to temper him,” d’Brouchart agreed.
“I have looked about the properties and the yellow Djinni is not here. Neither is Lemarik. The Knight mentioned that he needed to… what was his word? Negotiate? Bargain? That he had to speak with the dragon about helping us. I do not see the need to bring another of these beasts from the Abyss. Surely we can think of some other way. Does not your mystery or perhaps that of Lavon de Bleu provide some means for luring the dragon where we want her?”
“I do not think so. If you will remember, a great deal went into luring her to the stone in Lothian the first time we encountered her. What we need is Mark Andrew’s magick or perhaps even Luke Andrew’s. I have very little knowledge of either of their capabilities. But Lavon’s magick contains no conjurations for dragons and these little folk have only dragon lore, as it were, to go on. They are sore afraid of the beasts. They would not have anything to bring one up. Even Sister Meredith’s primitive magick might have been more useful. I miss her.”
“We all miss her.” Montague crossed himself. He did not like to think about what happened to Meredith Sinclair-Ramsay. Her disappearance and the evidence of her ‘death’ bothered him a great deal. There had been no one there to release her soul. “But these Djinn! They are a different matter altogether. Lemarik had the serpent under his control at one time, if you will remember. It is possible that this Bombarik has the same power.”
“Possibly,” d’Brouchart agreed. He just wanted to take a nap, but Montague was beside himself.
“And what about Lucio Dambretti? Corrigan told me that he was seen in the woods! Did you not hear him? What does it mean? As you well know, Nicole Ramsay was a formidable witch in her own regard. If he is under her sway as we believe, then he may have turned on us as well. He and Luke Matthew and this Djinni could easily team up and give a great deal of trouble. Why did he not come to the keep to see us? He is hiding something! You would think that he would have been glad to see us here. What is he up to? I have a bad feeling about this, your Grace. If he should come here, I believe that we should be very careful. Very careful.”
“We must always be careful, Brother.”
“If he comes here, I say we take him in hand and demand some answers.” Montague stopped pacing and waited for an answer.
“And on what charges would you hold him?” D’Brouchart raised his head to frown at the man. “What questions would you ask?”
“It is his duty as a member of the Council of Twelve to remain with us or, at least, in contact with us. It is not proper that he should be skulking about in the woods, spying on us with that woman.”
“Hmmph,” d’Brouchart eschewed this remark.
“He is very close to treason, your Grace. He has much explaining to do. Where has he been? What has he been up to? Why is still with Nicole Ramsay? He knows very well how she feels about this Order!” Montague’s temper began to escalate. “She was Omar’s wife for many years. She bore him a child. She almost killed her own father. She drove her mother to the brink of insanity. She is not healthy company. There is no telling what manner of sorcery she has worked on the Golden Eagle. He has always had a weakness for pretty faces and you know very well how he felt about her mother. She looks very much like her mother, if you get my meaning, sir. He would be easy prey for her.”
“He may not be so easy as you imagine.” The Grand Master closed his eyes. Lucio had always been a problem, but no more so than many of his Knights, past and present. “I do hope that he will come around before we engage the dragon. We can use his help, but your words have some measure of credence. If he comes to us, then, yes, we should use the utmost caution, especially if she is with him.”
“I will pass the word to de Lyons, de Bleu, Champlain and Simon to be on the lookout for him. I do not think that Konrad would be interested in my concerns regarding his beloved father-in-law. He has too much respect for Lucia’s father, God rest her soul!” Montague crossed himself again and left the Grand Master to his nap.
((((((((((((()))))))))))))
“I was quite surprised to hear your call. I had not expected you at all. At least not so very soon. You’ve changed your face but not your tune. Are you still in need of me? Or was it just my face to see that brought you back without your sack?”
The black dragon was perched on an overhanging ledge of rock above a small cave in the rocky slope. Her forelegs hung over the edge of the bluff and her head and neck stretched down between them as she perused the figure of the mounted Knight below her. Luke had donned Barry’s Templar uniform and decked himself out in silver plated armor borrowed from the King’s armory. He cut a fine figure, glittering in the sunlight, sitting ramrod stiff in the elaborate trappings of the Tuathan saddle. Had it only been a dream, one might have thought this the legendary meeting between Saint George and the Dragon, but this was no dream and no one was there to witness the mystical scene straight out of a fairy tale. Luke had not come here to slay the dragon; he had reluctantly come here expecting to be slain. The leather saddle squeaked and his armor jingled as the horse snorted nervously and pawed the ground in anticipation of sudden flight.
“You speak in riddles and rhymes, great Inanna.” Luke did his best to smile at the formidable beast. She could have crushed him and his horse with one swipe of her foreclaw. His horse stamped and jerked his head up and down, protesting this confrontation with death. It seemed hours had passed since he had come to this lonely place and tried to summon her. He had already given up hope of her coming, mounted up, ready to ride back to the keep, but when he had turned about, there she had been, on the ledge above his head, as if she had been there all along. Luke knew that it might very well be so. That she may have been there when he’d arrived. Dragons were well known for their ability to mimic their surroundings. If they did not want to be seen, it was virtually impossible to discern them without magickal help. A dragon could be anywhere, anytime and one may not be aware of them until it was too late. “I have come to ask a favor of you, yes. We are in need of your help.”
“Where is your Brother? Or has he eloped with another?” The dragon rumbled and Luke did not know if she was laughing or belching. He had no idea what brother she was referring to. Did she perhaps recognize him now as Mark’s brother? Or was she actually asking about him, still thinking that he was Mark? He shook his head slightly and tried to focus on the task at hand.
“I am alone,” he assured her. “I would hear what you would ask to help us lure the red serpent into a trap. We would take her away from these lands. She is wreaking havoc on the inhabitants here. We have constructed a pit and we need to get the beast into it. It was thought that you might be able to accomplish such a deed.”
“Oh, that would be a deed, indeed. Yes, yes a deed. Yes, you are in most perilous need! You are willing to concede that from this beast you must be freed. Beast, beast you refer to her. Feast, feast you would be to her. Do you see an infernal beast when on me your eyes you feast?” The dragon nodded her head and a puff of steam rose from her nostrils. “But is there nothing under the sun that we have not already done? I once heard a marvelous tale of two fighting dragons, hearty and hale, who were led into a trap such as this one you plan to snap. A sorcerer great did lead them there; a great stone box for them to share. And upon the box was built a tower, but he did reveal them at eleventh hour. The tyrant Vortigern did want his blood, but the sorcerer this plot withstood. Yes. Yes. It may be so there may be something that I know, but what would you offer in return if my help you wish to earn? Dare I name the price to pay? What is it worth this beast to slay? Is it worth some few short hours spent alone within my bowers? Is it worth a hoard of gold taken from the kings of old? Is it worth a virgin’s kiss or would you from my love resist? Oh, tell me, tell me, brave Knight and true, what is it really worth to you?” She lowered her head just a bit more and he could see what appeared to be laughter in her emerald eyes.
“It is worth everything I have. And what stands before you is the sum of my wealth. I have only myself to offer. If that is what you want, then it shall be yours.” Luke Matthew reined his horse about. “What is it you would wish me to do? I will take your demands back to the Master and tell them what you want.”
“The Master? Ahh, but you are the King! Of you praises all do sing! Why would you need to ask permission to send this beast into perdition? I would deal with you alone in my boudoir of comfortable stone.”
“But what can I give to you that you do not already have?” Luke asked with great trepidation.
“You made a vow to me to keep and I have not forgotten. In time we’ll find ourselves asleep in love’s deep dream begotten. The Golden Eagle’s soul in trade, a deal struck, a bargain made. But for this new deed I would demand, his son, be given into my hand. The boy would be great company and comfort in the dark for me. Have you no memory of our bargain made when you first petitioned for my aid?” She moved suddenly, causing a small landslide on the steep slope. Luke’s horse reared in fear as the small rocks and sand skittered past them.
“Wot?!” Luke’s brain was having a hard time keeping up with her strange rhetoric. “I cannot give my Brother’s child to you! He is like my own son! You cannot be serious.” He pulled on the reins and the horse backed away readily from the rocks.
Inanna drew her head back and raised her neck up above the ledge. A small gout of green flame erupted from her nose. She tossed her head and then lowered it again to study him closely and his heart froze as he thought she might have recognized the fact that he was not his brother. That there was something amiss with him.
“That is my offer,” she told him shortly. No rhyme. No room for further bargaining.
Luke sat speechless on his horse, staring up at her. He had not expected this, but what was she talking about when she spoke of another vow he had made to her. He had made no bargains, struck no deals with her. This had to be something his brother had done, but what did it have to do with Lucio’s soul? Luke Matthew did not like the sound of this at all.
“Please, hold, Great Inanna! Forgive me, I beg you. This other bargain that I have struck with you concerning the Golden Eagle… I have suffered much of late and my mind is foggy,” he said carefully. “I will soon be in a position to fulfill my part, but I have forgotten what I promised.
“Adar, Adar! I find that very hard to believe. Would you hope Inanna to deceive? You gave your word to visit me and take me to the rings to see, and if you break your word with me, the Golden Eagle, I’ll take from thee.”
“Oh! That bargain. Yes, I remember now.” He had no idea what she was talking about, but he had a terrible feeling that Lucio’s soul was in very grave danger now. He looked about, trying to think of some way to learn more without arousing suspicion, but nothing came to mind other than the fact that he needed to evacuate posthaste. “Time is slipping by, Great Inanna and I must be off. I will present your petition to the Master. I can’t make a decision like that without his approval. I’m quite sure that he will agree to give me leave to spend time with you, but I cannot say what he will decide concerning the Golden Eagle’s son.”
“The boy would not be a loss to you. And I would raise him strong and true. His mother’s wrath will not descend if he is found not among your men. She will blame the great Shammash, across the Gates of Hell the clash. He will burn her with a flash and in darkness teeth will gnash, but the boy with me safely kept. For him, this work I will accept.”
“I will tell them your words, Wondrous One.” Luke bowed his head to her slightly. This was not working. He would never give up Galen Zachary to this beast. Not for anything. He turned the horse and rode away at a slow pace, leaving her behind on the ledge above the cave. He reached the forest and then kicked the horse to a gallop under the trees. The Grand Master would never believe this. They would all think that he was lying to keep from using the dragon to help them. He kicked himself mentally for not bringing a witness to hear her out. He tried to go over her words as he rode, make sense of them, but it was hopeless his mind was filled with horror, fear and frustration. Surely his brother could have done better.
The yellow Ifrit watched from his perch high in the rocks as the Knight left the dragon. He was amazed to learn that his Master had such a fine, dangerous friend. He leaned his chin in his hand and considered the exchange he had just witnessed. The dragon drove hard bargains, but the Djinni did not see a problem with offering the boy for her help. There were many boys in the world. The mention of the great Shammash had made his blood run cold.
((((((((((((()))))))))))))
Lucio dismounted and reached up to take the child from Andrea’s arms. He held the baby as she climbed down off the pale stallion and stood beside him. They had stopped just short of breaking from the cover of the trees. Across the plain, the castle keep could be seen rising up against the blue backdrop of the sky above the ocean cliff. Lucio held the baby’s face against his own for several seconds. He did not want to leave them here. He could not see them from the keep. Anything could be lurking in the woods and they had seen evidence of the dragon’s work here and there as they had ridden over from the cottage in the meadow. Long swaths of burned vegetation and blackened earth where her flames had scorched the ground, withering the trees and incinerating the shorter undergrowth to ashes dotted the area. He held the boy out again and looked at him closely.
“He has your colors, you know. A little more gold perhaps…” he told her, referring to the baby’s aura. “I want you to remain on your horse, ready to ride I’ve decided to take Lucky with me. If all goes well, I will leave him with someone at the keep when I come back for you. That way he will spend less time unprotected. If it does not work out, he will be with me until we are together again.”
“You feel you can protect him better than I can?” She frowned at him. “You will be exposed as you ride across. What will you do if the dragon comes?”
“Ride faster.” He smiled at her. “It really doesn’t matter what we do. It is in God’s hands now, but I would feel better if he were with me. If you have to run, he will not be a burden for you. He is as nothing to me, whereas he might be a bit hard for you to handle and ride at the same time.”
“That is a poor excuse, Lucio.” She shook her head. “But it’s as you say. God will have to look after us now.”
Lucio leaned to kiss her and then hugged her close with the baby between them. The boy kicked his feet inside the knotted cloth that served as a sort of sling for him. The Golden Eagle slipped the makeshift strap over his head and climbed back onto his horse adjusting the baby against his stomach in front of him. He looked down at the baby again and then at Andrea.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” he told her. “They will accept us. I know they will. Simon won’t turn us away. He has sons. He knows what it means.”
Andrea nodded. She didn’t expect them to turn Lucio away, but Lemarik’s words had been ominous. If they had any idea who the child’s mother was, they might turn the child out or kill it. But there were others among them of the same ilk. There was Oriel and Konrad, but now there was the problem of Jozsef. This boy was their brother. Another child of darkness. She could not believe it herself. It was no wonder that the wrath of God had come upon the heathens in the elder days. No wonder that the lesser gods had been thrown down into the pits of hell. And yet, how easily the cycle had begun again, encroaching upon them gradually, insinuating the sin into their lives with a finesse that almost made everything seem perfectly all right. How could one look upon the innocent face of a newborn child and see evil? Only one with the sight for seeing into the future and she could not see into the future. The past was bad enough.
She patted Lucio’s leg and then stopped as the sound of hoof beats caught her ear.
“Shhh.” She held up one hand. Someone was riding hard under the trees away to the south a bit. Lucio looked about under the trees for the source of the sound. They had picked a thick growth of young oaks behind a natural tangle of honeysuckle vines growing on fallen logs. They watched as Luke Matthew appeared from the depths of the forest on a white horse. He was headed home in a hurry and looked as if he had just come from a parade.
Lucio rose up a bit to see better if something might be chasing him.
“Perhaps I can ride in with an ally,” he told her quickly and kicked the red horse. He was off before Andrea could agree or protest.
She watched as the red horse flew after the white and she heard Lucio whistle to the Knight as they broke from the cover of the trees. Luke Matthew slowed his horse to a gallop and turned about in the saddle with some difficulty, hampered by the glittering armor beneath his white surcoat. When he saw Lucio, he turned his mount and rode back toward him. They stopped beside each other briefly and then rode on toward the keep side by side. Luke would not stand against Lucio. Luke would take his side. But Luke was not Montague, nor was he the Grand Master and there was trouble there.
((((((((((((()))))))))))))
By the time the two riders reached the outer battlements of the first wall, everyone at the keep knew they were coming. Word had spread like wildfire through the castle and the entire company had fallen out to greet them.
D’Brouchart stood inside the gate of the inner wall, waiting with Montague, Champlain, de Lyons and Barry. Armand, Lavon and a number of the others had hurried on to the outer wall and still more people stood about the steps of the keep. Michael and Galen had come up from the cellar with their bows and arrows slung over their backs when Planxty had shouted down to them that their father was returning and bringing someone with him. Luke’s absence had been the topic of conversation ever since he had failed to show up for Liam’s muttonless stew at suppertime. They had all been afraid that something terrible had befallen him and Barry had been consulting with the Master about whether they should mount a search party to look for him when Sim had come to announce his return. The two boys had caught up with Il Dolce Mio in the inner bailey, but Simon snagged them both when they tried to get past the inner gate. The two disappointed boys stood waiting with the Grand Master’s party as the elves hurried out to see who had come.
They heard shouts drifting back as Lucio was identified from the walls.
Montague looked at d’Brouchart in a meaningful way as if to say ‘I told you so’. This development only served to prove out his suspicions that a conspiracy was in the works. The Grand Master climbed the steps to the catwalk behind the wall and leaned on the parapets, watching as the two Knights rode through the broken down gate of the outer wall. They were surrounded by a crowd of Templars and faeries as they walked their horses toward the portcullis. His blue eyes narrowed as he caught sight of the bundle slung around the Golden Eagle’s neck.
“Is that what I think it is, your Grace?” Montague shaded his eyes against the lowering sun.
“A child,” d’Brouchart said softly. “Another liability.” He narrowed his watery blues thoughtfully and spoke in a whisper. “What has he done?”
Lucio looked up at them and then at the gate where the jagged spikes of the raised portcullis protruded from the slot in the stones. He did not want to be trapped inside the keep if things went wrong. He’d had very little time to explain anything to Luke Matthew. The Knight seemed highly agitated and almost hysterical and when Lucio had shown him the baby, he’d begun to speak in Gaelic. Lucio had picked up only a of his frantic words: dragon and hostages. Lucio stopped his horse below the wall and sat looking up at the Master.
“Golden Eagle!” D’Brouchart jerked his head at the Knight. “What is that you have there?” Not much of a greeting for a returning hero. His facial expression changed immediately to one of hostile arrogance that the Grand Master recognized instantly. The negotiations had failed before they had even started.
“I have come seeking sanctuary for myself, my wife and my child,” Lucio told him evenly and held up the baby a bit so that they could see him. Many of the faeries had followed him, but the main bulk had remained with Luke Matthew as he entered the second gate. Lucio was already aware of the fact that he would not be entering the castle. He would go through the motions, plead his case for the sake of the child and then go back to Andrea. The guilt of whatever befell them would lie on d’Brouchart’s conscience now and his desertion of the Order would be qualified by necessity.
“What manner of child is this?” D’Brouchart asked, directing this question to Armand de Bleu who stood near the mounted Knight.
“It is a boy child, your Grace!” Armand called up to him from where he stood near Lucio’s horse. “I see nothing amiss here.”
“Come inside and we will talk, Golden Eagle,” the Master offered one hand to him. “Why do you stop outside the gate?”
“I am not sure I am welcome here, your Grace,” Lucio told him. “I would prefer to remain here. Won’t you come down?”
“Where is this wife you speak of?” D’Brouchart raised his eyes to the empty plain.
“She is safe. I would know what manner of reception we might expect before I accept your invitation, your Grace. If we are no longer welcome here, then we would not impose on your hospitality.”
“This is my castle, Father!” Il Dolce Mio stepped in front of the horse. “You are always welcome here, but I wonder if the baby’s mother would be welcome. Surely you do not mean to bring her within these walls?”
Lucio lowered his eyes to the elven King.
“If my son’s mother is not welcome, then I cannot come in, your Highness,” Lucio shook his head. He had not expected this from the King. He wondered what had happened to the Royal Sister thing. Il Dolce Mio had always shown the greatest respect for Nicole Ramsay, whom he considered his sister. “This is her son and I would not be separated from them.”
“That is a sore problem, Father.” Il Dolce Mio’s eyes narrowed.
“I can offer you no more than the King,” d’Brouchart’s voice drifted down to him. “I am his guest as well. But can we not sit down and talk about this? We would welcome you back to the fold, Golden Eagle. Your place on the Council remains. You belong with us. Bring the babe inside and give him over to the women so that they may care for him properly.”
“I cannot accept.” Lucio shook his head and pulled on the reins of the horse. He kept his eyes on the elf. He did not understand what had happened here. In his heart, he had expected this from the Master, but the elf….
“Father!” Simon touched the Master’s arm. “We can’t turn them away! Surely there must be…”
“This hall does not belong to us, my son,” d’Brouchart told him in a low voice. “Montague has reason to suspect a conspiracy here. You saw who he rode in with.”
Luke Matthew had ridden on under the portcullis through the inner gate into the bailey. When he saw that Lucio had not followed him, he circled through the inner bailey and returned to the outer bailey in confusion. He reined up next to Lucio and looked up at the face of the Master and the others gathered there.
“Your Grace!” He shouted. “We have no time for this! I have important news. We must call a Council meeting at once. There are decisions to be made.”
“Your royal nephew has denied the child’s mother entrance to the keep.” D’Brouchart spread his hands in front of him. The murmur of voices from the people crowded about the gate and on the walls grew a bit louder. “The Golden Eagle will not enter. What do you suggest, Brother?”
“Dammit!” Luke cursed and kicked his horse and rode in a tight circle around Lucio, who sat frowning darkly with the baby clutched against him. Luke was beside himself. He did not understand. Here was his Brother, pleading for help for an innocent child. What was this?
“What is this?” Luke looked down at the elf. The diminutive king crossed his arms over his chest and stood his ground.
“My father wants to bring this child’s mother into my castle. I cannot allow it.” Il Dolce Mio shook his head and flower petals drifted to the ground. “She is evil beyond evil. My keep could not contain her. She would destroy us all.”
“Whattar ye talkin’ aboot?” Luke was flabbergasted.
“I cannot allow it!” The elf tossed his head again. A mixture of anger and sadness clouded his childlike beauty.
“Brother,” Luke addressed the Golden Eagle. “Come inside and let us hash this out over a glass of wine. There is some mistake here. Do not do anything rash. We have serious problems that cannot go unattended.”
“No,” Lucio refused. “I cannot leave my wife alone. The dragon. If I go in, I will not be allowed to leave again.”
“Then tell me where I can find you. I’ll speak on your behalf and then bring you word,” Luke lowered his voice. “There is something here that is not right. I will see what goes and come to you tonight.”
Lucio looked about nervously. Hundreds of eyes were turned on him.
“I can’t do that.” He pulled on the reins. “It is quite obvious that something is sorely amiss here and I see the problem standing on the wall!” He looked up again at the Grand Master. “This is d’Brouchart’s doings. He is afraid that we would stand against him in Council, Brother. Some of us may not be so agreeable concerning his appointment to replace your brother. Yes, I have heard this. He has perpetrated a coup. I will not be a party to his treacheries. He never forgave your brother for taking the Order from him. He never cared for Mark Ramsay and he does not care for you or me. Watch your back, Brother, or you will find a dagger there and your head in a box. He has even poisoned the King against his own sister.”
Lucio yanked on the reins and headed back toward the outer gate.
“Father!!” Galen broke away from Louis Champlain and began to run toward the outer gate after his father.
Lucio glanced back at him and hesitated. He stopped the horse and waited for the boy.
“We can’t let him go!” Montague cried urgently and grabbed d’Brouchart’s arm. “We don’t know what this is all about! Stop him!”
D’Brouchart frowned.
Lucio rode the horse in a tight circle as Galen rushed toward him, calling his name desperately.
The Master hurried down the steps after the Seneschal.
((((((((((((()))))))))))))
Andrea knew something was wrong. She had ridden halfway across the plain in spite of the exposure and Lucio’s warnings. She could see many people on the walls. Paddy Puffingtowne came riding toward her on his small gray pony. He was waving frantically to her. She pulled up hard next to him and he pressed his hand over his heart.
“Lucky’s in tribble!” Was all he got out of his mouth before she was off again, slapping the reins against either side of the horse’s neck. “Wait!” Paddy shouted but it was too late. The great stallion put the pony in the dust, leaving the clurichaun far behind him.
She was close enough now to see Lucio as he swung down out of the saddle just inside the ruined gate in the outer ramparts of the keep. She could see Galen Zachary’s shining blonde hair as Lucio bent to hug his son to him. She could see beyond the Italian Knight to where several more people were running toward him.
“Lucio!” She shouted at the top of her lungs, but he could not hear her. She was too far from him.
Lucio rose up and looked back toward the second wall. Montague and de Lyons and three of the Templar soldiers were running toward him.
“Go on now, Galen. I’ll be back for you!” He told his son and quickly mounted up again, holding the baby in one arm. He turned the horse and kicked the stallion to a gallop. Precious time had been lost and he sensed the others pouring through the inner gate now. To his surprise, he saw Andrea riding full tilt toward him across the plain.
“Papa!” Galen shouted at him. He looked over his shoulder in time to see de Lyons pulling Galen’s bow from the boy’s shoulder. Lucio did not understand, at first, what was happening.
De Lyons grabbed a handful of arrows from the confused boy’s quiver and bounded up the stairs to the ramparts of the second wall. Lucio had cleared the gate and was riding toward Andrea as she shouted to him, pointing at something behind him.
Lucio turned slightly in the saddle and looked back at the wall. The Knight of the Sword was nocking an arrow in one of the long, elven bows. Were they really going to shoot him? He kicked the horse again and veered to the right. One of the arrows zinged past the horse and stuck in the ground. Yes, they were shooting at him! He couldn’t believe it!
He veered again to the left and felt the second arrow as it narrowly missed his leg, coming close enough to rip the fabric of his pants.
“Santa Maria! Go back!!” He shouted at Andrea. “Go back!!” He raised his free arm to wave her off and was amazed to see another arrow strike his forearm, passing completely through it. At first he felt no pain and things seemed to move in slow motion. Andrea was on a collision course with him now. If he fell from the horse with the baby, he would kill it and most likely himself as well. He lowered the injured arm, ignoring the burning pain that was beginning to make itself known and pulled on the reins, trying to stop the stallion as it thundered across the plain, throwing up great chunks of turf. Andrea had passed him and was coming about behind him.
The stallion slowed his pace very quickly, almost throwing the Italian over head, but the Golden Eagle managed to stay in the saddle as the pain from the arrow registered with alarming intensity on his brain. The horse stopped and he threw his leg over the horse’s neck. The pain seemed disproportionate to the wound. He’d been wounded before and much worse than this. Black suns circled in front of his eyes. He had to get down before he fell on his son. His one thought was to get the child to Andrea when she passed him again, but she was stopping her horse as well. She drew up beside him and the gray stallion reared on its hind legs pawing the air at the abrupt and violent halt. Lucio pulled the wailing child from the sling and handed him up to her. She reached for the boy, but never made the connection as he heard the whining zing of a fourth arrow. The arrow struck her with a sickening thud. Lucio was knocked onto his back as the woman fell from the horse, striking him a glancing blow on his left shoulder. He heard himself screaming ‘No! No!’ over and over as he climbed to his feet, still clutching the crying baby in his good arm. The pain from the arrow was almost unbearable, a hot searing streak ran up his arm and seemed to wrap itself about his heart. He could not feel his hand or his arm.
The Golden Eagle dropped to one knee beside Andrea, who lay face down in the grass. The arrow had struck her lower back. A dark stain marred the bright red surcoat she wore over her blue shirt and chain mail. The narrow tip had pierced the mail! An elven weapon of great strength. She reached one hand back, seeking feebly for the arrow and then lay still in the grass. The two horses pawed the ground as they circled the downed riders. Many people were converging on them now, but Lucio did not see them or hear them as he laid the baby on the grass and tried desperately to pull the arrow from her back. The pain in his own arm was unbearable. He saw stars circling the black suns in front of his eyes and then the face of Paddy Puffingtowne and nothing more. For a few moments, he heard his own heart pounding in his ears and then that, too, faded.
Luke Matthew made it to the scene on his white stallion just after the clurichaun. He surveyed the scene in shocked horror and then looked back at the keep where de Lyons was still standing on the wall with the bow in his hands. Paddy was on the ground with the two injured people. The baby’s cries were pitiful now as the clurichaun picked him up and cradled him against his shoulder. Paddy stood looking up at Luke Matthew in disbelief.
The Knight turned his horse and rode back toward the Grand Master with his sword drawn. D’Brouchart stopped at the menacing sight of Mark Andrew’s brother dressed in the full regalia of a battle ready warrior. Shouts of alarm went up around him and the small group began to disperse in all directions, running from the Knight bent on murder. Simon stepped in front of his father as the enraged Knight bore down on him. Luke brought his horse to the ground and tumbled off of him as he fell. He rolled away from the horse in the grass and came up in front of Montague. The Knight of the Holy City drew his own sword and squared off with the Knight.
Luke Matthew bellowed something at the Seneschal and charged him with the broadsword over his shoulder. Montague sidestepped the deadly blow aimed at his head and Luke’s momentum took him past the Seneschal. The blade of his sword struck the ground. He rose up again and turned, but he never had the chance to deliver a second blow as Barry and Louis Champlain tackled him from behind. Louis pinned him face down on the ground while Barry disarmed him. He lay with his face in the grass shouting curses at them and something about the dragon and Lucio’s soul.
Chapter Six of Eighteen
Excellent speech becometh not a fool:
much less do lying lips a prince
“Where do you suppose he is?” Montague paced the floor in the Grand Master’s bedchamber.
“Simon said he left him in the meadow,” the Grand Master answered.
He sat on the edge of the bed and laboriously pulled off one boot. He tossed it in the corner of the near bare room and went after the other one.
“Don’t you think it a bit strange that he did not come home for supper?” The Seneschal frowned. Each time he began to think that Luke Matthew was not responsible for their plight, the Knight of the Orient would do something new that brought suspicion upon him. Only that morning, Montague had spied him having a heated argument with the one called Bombarik. Luke had yet to explain this creature sufficiently as far as Montague was concerned. The Ifrit as Luke called him, was another of the Djinni race and Montague wanted nothing to do with him. He well remembered how Lemarik had come to be entangled in their business. Now here was another one. “I saw him arguing with that yellow Djinni this morning! I don’t trust that one. He is not of the same ilk as the purple wizard.” William stopped to stare at d’Brouchart. “Your Grace! You don’t suppose that Luke Matthew might be this one’s father as Mark Ramsay is Lemarik’s father?”
“Oh, I doubt that.” The Grand Master fluffed up his two small pillows, frowned at them and then leaned back against the heavy wooden headboard. It was great to get off his feet for a while. “Luke Matthew is not nearly as old as his brother. You know that!”
“Of course.” Montague went back to his pacing. This was another fact that bothered him about the so-called ‘twin brothers’. “But I believe that we should watch that relationship closely. They are not on the best of terms and the Djinni could be dangerous. He has a… look about him.”
“And so we shall.” D’Brouchart closed his eyes. He had not spent so much time on horseback in ages. He was extremely glad that the preparations were made and for better or worse, they were ready for the dragon. What concerned him was how they would get back to Scotland or anywhere else afterwards. Snaring or slaying the dragon in no way meant that a path would be opened for them to leave this place. He missed his daily swims.
“But Luke has been very worried about his wife!” Montague continued. “He has expressed his concerns to Simon on several occasions. She is advanced in her pregnancy. Much more so than I would like to see. It can only mean that we have been here much longer than it seems. She looks about to burst at any second and I am not happy with this situation. What will we do if she has problems? I would hate to have to deal with the Knight if something went awry with the woman.”
“He would be a problem. That much is certain. Without his brother here to temper him,” d’Brouchart agreed.
“I have looked about the properties and the yellow Djinni is not here. Neither is Lemarik. The Knight mentioned that he needed to… what was his word? Negotiate? Bargain? That he had to speak with the dragon about helping us. I do not see the need to bring another of these beasts from the Abyss. Surely we can think of some other way. Does not your mystery or perhaps that of Lavon de Bleu provide some means for luring the dragon where we want her?”
“I do not think so. If you will remember, a great deal went into luring her to the stone in Lothian the first time we encountered her. What we need is Mark Andrew’s magick or perhaps even Luke Andrew’s. I have very little knowledge of either of their capabilities. But Lavon’s magick contains no conjurations for dragons and these little folk have only dragon lore, as it were, to go on. They are sore afraid of the beasts. They would not have anything to bring one up. Even Sister Meredith’s primitive magick might have been more useful. I miss her.”
“We all miss her.” Montague crossed himself. He did not like to think about what happened to Meredith Sinclair-Ramsay. Her disappearance and the evidence of her ‘death’ bothered him a great deal. There had been no one there to release her soul. “But these Djinn! They are a different matter altogether. Lemarik had the serpent under his control at one time, if you will remember. It is possible that this Bombarik has the same power.”
“Possibly,” d’Brouchart agreed. He just wanted to take a nap, but Montague was beside himself.
“And what about Lucio Dambretti? Corrigan told me that he was seen in the woods! Did you not hear him? What does it mean? As you well know, Nicole Ramsay was a formidable witch in her own regard. If he is under her sway as we believe, then he may have turned on us as well. He and Luke Matthew and this Djinni could easily team up and give a great deal of trouble. Why did he not come to the keep to see us? He is hiding something! You would think that he would have been glad to see us here. What is he up to? I have a bad feeling about this, your Grace. If he should come here, I believe that we should be very careful. Very careful.”
“We must always be careful, Brother.”
“If he comes here, I say we take him in hand and demand some answers.” Montague stopped pacing and waited for an answer.
“And on what charges would you hold him?” D’Brouchart raised his head to frown at the man. “What questions would you ask?”
“It is his duty as a member of the Council of Twelve to remain with us or, at least, in contact with us. It is not proper that he should be skulking about in the woods, spying on us with that woman.”
“Hmmph,” d’Brouchart eschewed this remark.
“He is very close to treason, your Grace. He has much explaining to do. Where has he been? What has he been up to? Why is still with Nicole Ramsay? He knows very well how she feels about this Order!” Montague’s temper began to escalate. “She was Omar’s wife for many years. She bore him a child. She almost killed her own father. She drove her mother to the brink of insanity. She is not healthy company. There is no telling what manner of sorcery she has worked on the Golden Eagle. He has always had a weakness for pretty faces and you know very well how he felt about her mother. She looks very much like her mother, if you get my meaning, sir. He would be easy prey for her.”
“He may not be so easy as you imagine.” The Grand Master closed his eyes. Lucio had always been a problem, but no more so than many of his Knights, past and present. “I do hope that he will come around before we engage the dragon. We can use his help, but your words have some measure of credence. If he comes to us, then, yes, we should use the utmost caution, especially if she is with him.”
“I will pass the word to de Lyons, de Bleu, Champlain and Simon to be on the lookout for him. I do not think that Konrad would be interested in my concerns regarding his beloved father-in-law. He has too much respect for Lucia’s father, God rest her soul!” Montague crossed himself again and left the Grand Master to his nap.
((((((((((((()))))))))))))
“I was quite surprised to hear your call. I had not expected you at all. At least not so very soon. You’ve changed your face but not your tune. Are you still in need of me? Or was it just my face to see that brought you back without your sack?”
The black dragon was perched on an overhanging ledge of rock above a small cave in the rocky slope. Her forelegs hung over the edge of the bluff and her head and neck stretched down between them as she perused the figure of the mounted Knight below her. Luke had donned Barry’s Templar uniform and decked himself out in silver plated armor borrowed from the King’s armory. He cut a fine figure, glittering in the sunlight, sitting ramrod stiff in the elaborate trappings of the Tuathan saddle. Had it only been a dream, one might have thought this the legendary meeting between Saint George and the Dragon, but this was no dream and no one was there to witness the mystical scene straight out of a fairy tale. Luke had not come here to slay the dragon; he had reluctantly come here expecting to be slain. The leather saddle squeaked and his armor jingled as the horse snorted nervously and pawed the ground in anticipation of sudden flight.
“You speak in riddles and rhymes, great Inanna.” Luke did his best to smile at the formidable beast. She could have crushed him and his horse with one swipe of her foreclaw. His horse stamped and jerked his head up and down, protesting this confrontation with death. It seemed hours had passed since he had come to this lonely place and tried to summon her. He had already given up hope of her coming, mounted up, ready to ride back to the keep, but when he had turned about, there she had been, on the ledge above his head, as if she had been there all along. Luke knew that it might very well be so. That she may have been there when he’d arrived. Dragons were well known for their ability to mimic their surroundings. If they did not want to be seen, it was virtually impossible to discern them without magickal help. A dragon could be anywhere, anytime and one may not be aware of them until it was too late. “I have come to ask a favor of you, yes. We are in need of your help.”
“Where is your Brother? Or has he eloped with another?” The dragon rumbled and Luke did not know if she was laughing or belching. He had no idea what brother she was referring to. Did she perhaps recognize him now as Mark’s brother? Or was she actually asking about him, still thinking that he was Mark? He shook his head slightly and tried to focus on the task at hand.
“I am alone,” he assured her. “I would hear what you would ask to help us lure the red serpent into a trap. We would take her away from these lands. She is wreaking havoc on the inhabitants here. We have constructed a pit and we need to get the beast into it. It was thought that you might be able to accomplish such a deed.”
“Oh, that would be a deed, indeed. Yes, yes a deed. Yes, you are in most perilous need! You are willing to concede that from this beast you must be freed. Beast, beast you refer to her. Feast, feast you would be to her. Do you see an infernal beast when on me your eyes you feast?” The dragon nodded her head and a puff of steam rose from her nostrils. “But is there nothing under the sun that we have not already done? I once heard a marvelous tale of two fighting dragons, hearty and hale, who were led into a trap such as this one you plan to snap. A sorcerer great did lead them there; a great stone box for them to share. And upon the box was built a tower, but he did reveal them at eleventh hour. The tyrant Vortigern did want his blood, but the sorcerer this plot withstood. Yes. Yes. It may be so there may be something that I know, but what would you offer in return if my help you wish to earn? Dare I name the price to pay? What is it worth this beast to slay? Is it worth some few short hours spent alone within my bowers? Is it worth a hoard of gold taken from the kings of old? Is it worth a virgin’s kiss or would you from my love resist? Oh, tell me, tell me, brave Knight and true, what is it really worth to you?” She lowered her head just a bit more and he could see what appeared to be laughter in her emerald eyes.
“It is worth everything I have. And what stands before you is the sum of my wealth. I have only myself to offer. If that is what you want, then it shall be yours.” Luke Matthew reined his horse about. “What is it you would wish me to do? I will take your demands back to the Master and tell them what you want.”
“The Master? Ahh, but you are the King! Of you praises all do sing! Why would you need to ask permission to send this beast into perdition? I would deal with you alone in my boudoir of comfortable stone.”
“But what can I give to you that you do not already have?” Luke asked with great trepidation.
“You made a vow to me to keep and I have not forgotten. In time we’ll find ourselves asleep in love’s deep dream begotten. The Golden Eagle’s soul in trade, a deal struck, a bargain made. But for this new deed I would demand, his son, be given into my hand. The boy would be great company and comfort in the dark for me. Have you no memory of our bargain made when you first petitioned for my aid?” She moved suddenly, causing a small landslide on the steep slope. Luke’s horse reared in fear as the small rocks and sand skittered past them.
“Wot?!” Luke’s brain was having a hard time keeping up with her strange rhetoric. “I cannot give my Brother’s child to you! He is like my own son! You cannot be serious.” He pulled on the reins and the horse backed away readily from the rocks.
Inanna drew her head back and raised her neck up above the ledge. A small gout of green flame erupted from her nose. She tossed her head and then lowered it again to study him closely and his heart froze as he thought she might have recognized the fact that he was not his brother. That there was something amiss with him.
“That is my offer,” she told him shortly. No rhyme. No room for further bargaining.
Luke sat speechless on his horse, staring up at her. He had not expected this, but what was she talking about when she spoke of another vow he had made to her. He had made no bargains, struck no deals with her. This had to be something his brother had done, but what did it have to do with Lucio’s soul? Luke Matthew did not like the sound of this at all.
“Please, hold, Great Inanna! Forgive me, I beg you. This other bargain that I have struck with you concerning the Golden Eagle… I have suffered much of late and my mind is foggy,” he said carefully. “I will soon be in a position to fulfill my part, but I have forgotten what I promised.
“Adar, Adar! I find that very hard to believe. Would you hope Inanna to deceive? You gave your word to visit me and take me to the rings to see, and if you break your word with me, the Golden Eagle, I’ll take from thee.”
“Oh! That bargain. Yes, I remember now.” He had no idea what she was talking about, but he had a terrible feeling that Lucio’s soul was in very grave danger now. He looked about, trying to think of some way to learn more without arousing suspicion, but nothing came to mind other than the fact that he needed to evacuate posthaste. “Time is slipping by, Great Inanna and I must be off. I will present your petition to the Master. I can’t make a decision like that without his approval. I’m quite sure that he will agree to give me leave to spend time with you, but I cannot say what he will decide concerning the Golden Eagle’s son.”
“The boy would not be a loss to you. And I would raise him strong and true. His mother’s wrath will not descend if he is found not among your men. She will blame the great Shammash, across the Gates of Hell the clash. He will burn her with a flash and in darkness teeth will gnash, but the boy with me safely kept. For him, this work I will accept.”
“I will tell them your words, Wondrous One.” Luke bowed his head to her slightly. This was not working. He would never give up Galen Zachary to this beast. Not for anything. He turned the horse and rode away at a slow pace, leaving her behind on the ledge above the cave. He reached the forest and then kicked the horse to a gallop under the trees. The Grand Master would never believe this. They would all think that he was lying to keep from using the dragon to help them. He kicked himself mentally for not bringing a witness to hear her out. He tried to go over her words as he rode, make sense of them, but it was hopeless his mind was filled with horror, fear and frustration. Surely his brother could have done better.
The yellow Ifrit watched from his perch high in the rocks as the Knight left the dragon. He was amazed to learn that his Master had such a fine, dangerous friend. He leaned his chin in his hand and considered the exchange he had just witnessed. The dragon drove hard bargains, but the Djinni did not see a problem with offering the boy for her help. There were many boys in the world. The mention of the great Shammash had made his blood run cold.
((((((((((((()))))))))))))
Lucio dismounted and reached up to take the child from Andrea’s arms. He held the baby as she climbed down off the pale stallion and stood beside him. They had stopped just short of breaking from the cover of the trees. Across the plain, the castle keep could be seen rising up against the blue backdrop of the sky above the ocean cliff. Lucio held the baby’s face against his own for several seconds. He did not want to leave them here. He could not see them from the keep. Anything could be lurking in the woods and they had seen evidence of the dragon’s work here and there as they had ridden over from the cottage in the meadow. Long swaths of burned vegetation and blackened earth where her flames had scorched the ground, withering the trees and incinerating the shorter undergrowth to ashes dotted the area. He held the boy out again and looked at him closely.
“He has your colors, you know. A little more gold perhaps…” he told her, referring to the baby’s aura. “I want you to remain on your horse, ready to ride I’ve decided to take Lucky with me. If all goes well, I will leave him with someone at the keep when I come back for you. That way he will spend less time unprotected. If it does not work out, he will be with me until we are together again.”
“You feel you can protect him better than I can?” She frowned at him. “You will be exposed as you ride across. What will you do if the dragon comes?”
“Ride faster.” He smiled at her. “It really doesn’t matter what we do. It is in God’s hands now, but I would feel better if he were with me. If you have to run, he will not be a burden for you. He is as nothing to me, whereas he might be a bit hard for you to handle and ride at the same time.”
“That is a poor excuse, Lucio.” She shook her head. “But it’s as you say. God will have to look after us now.”
Lucio leaned to kiss her and then hugged her close with the baby between them. The boy kicked his feet inside the knotted cloth that served as a sort of sling for him. The Golden Eagle slipped the makeshift strap over his head and climbed back onto his horse adjusting the baby against his stomach in front of him. He looked down at the baby again and then at Andrea.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” he told her. “They will accept us. I know they will. Simon won’t turn us away. He has sons. He knows what it means.”
Andrea nodded. She didn’t expect them to turn Lucio away, but Lemarik’s words had been ominous. If they had any idea who the child’s mother was, they might turn the child out or kill it. But there were others among them of the same ilk. There was Oriel and Konrad, but now there was the problem of Jozsef. This boy was their brother. Another child of darkness. She could not believe it herself. It was no wonder that the wrath of God had come upon the heathens in the elder days. No wonder that the lesser gods had been thrown down into the pits of hell. And yet, how easily the cycle had begun again, encroaching upon them gradually, insinuating the sin into their lives with a finesse that almost made everything seem perfectly all right. How could one look upon the innocent face of a newborn child and see evil? Only one with the sight for seeing into the future and she could not see into the future. The past was bad enough.
She patted Lucio’s leg and then stopped as the sound of hoof beats caught her ear.
“Shhh.” She held up one hand. Someone was riding hard under the trees away to the south a bit. Lucio looked about under the trees for the source of the sound. They had picked a thick growth of young oaks behind a natural tangle of honeysuckle vines growing on fallen logs. They watched as Luke Matthew appeared from the depths of the forest on a white horse. He was headed home in a hurry and looked as if he had just come from a parade.
Lucio rose up a bit to see better if something might be chasing him.
“Perhaps I can ride in with an ally,” he told her quickly and kicked the red horse. He was off before Andrea could agree or protest.
She watched as the red horse flew after the white and she heard Lucio whistle to the Knight as they broke from the cover of the trees. Luke Matthew slowed his horse to a gallop and turned about in the saddle with some difficulty, hampered by the glittering armor beneath his white surcoat. When he saw Lucio, he turned his mount and rode back toward him. They stopped beside each other briefly and then rode on toward the keep side by side. Luke would not stand against Lucio. Luke would take his side. But Luke was not Montague, nor was he the Grand Master and there was trouble there.
((((((((((((()))))))))))))
By the time the two riders reached the outer battlements of the first wall, everyone at the keep knew they were coming. Word had spread like wildfire through the castle and the entire company had fallen out to greet them.
D’Brouchart stood inside the gate of the inner wall, waiting with Montague, Champlain, de Lyons and Barry. Armand, Lavon and a number of the others had hurried on to the outer wall and still more people stood about the steps of the keep. Michael and Galen had come up from the cellar with their bows and arrows slung over their backs when Planxty had shouted down to them that their father was returning and bringing someone with him. Luke’s absence had been the topic of conversation ever since he had failed to show up for Liam’s muttonless stew at suppertime. They had all been afraid that something terrible had befallen him and Barry had been consulting with the Master about whether they should mount a search party to look for him when Sim had come to announce his return. The two boys had caught up with Il Dolce Mio in the inner bailey, but Simon snagged them both when they tried to get past the inner gate. The two disappointed boys stood waiting with the Grand Master’s party as the elves hurried out to see who had come.
They heard shouts drifting back as Lucio was identified from the walls.
Montague looked at d’Brouchart in a meaningful way as if to say ‘I told you so’. This development only served to prove out his suspicions that a conspiracy was in the works. The Grand Master climbed the steps to the catwalk behind the wall and leaned on the parapets, watching as the two Knights rode through the broken down gate of the outer wall. They were surrounded by a crowd of Templars and faeries as they walked their horses toward the portcullis. His blue eyes narrowed as he caught sight of the bundle slung around the Golden Eagle’s neck.
“Is that what I think it is, your Grace?” Montague shaded his eyes against the lowering sun.
“A child,” d’Brouchart said softly. “Another liability.” He narrowed his watery blues thoughtfully and spoke in a whisper. “What has he done?”
Lucio looked up at them and then at the gate where the jagged spikes of the raised portcullis protruded from the slot in the stones. He did not want to be trapped inside the keep if things went wrong. He’d had very little time to explain anything to Luke Matthew. The Knight seemed highly agitated and almost hysterical and when Lucio had shown him the baby, he’d begun to speak in Gaelic. Lucio had picked up only a of his frantic words: dragon and hostages. Lucio stopped his horse below the wall and sat looking up at the Master.
“Golden Eagle!” D’Brouchart jerked his head at the Knight. “What is that you have there?” Not much of a greeting for a returning hero. His facial expression changed immediately to one of hostile arrogance that the Grand Master recognized instantly. The negotiations had failed before they had even started.
“I have come seeking sanctuary for myself, my wife and my child,” Lucio told him evenly and held up the baby a bit so that they could see him. Many of the faeries had followed him, but the main bulk had remained with Luke Matthew as he entered the second gate. Lucio was already aware of the fact that he would not be entering the castle. He would go through the motions, plead his case for the sake of the child and then go back to Andrea. The guilt of whatever befell them would lie on d’Brouchart’s conscience now and his desertion of the Order would be qualified by necessity.
“What manner of child is this?” D’Brouchart asked, directing this question to Armand de Bleu who stood near the mounted Knight.
“It is a boy child, your Grace!” Armand called up to him from where he stood near Lucio’s horse. “I see nothing amiss here.”
“Come inside and we will talk, Golden Eagle,” the Master offered one hand to him. “Why do you stop outside the gate?”
“I am not sure I am welcome here, your Grace,” Lucio told him. “I would prefer to remain here. Won’t you come down?”
“Where is this wife you speak of?” D’Brouchart raised his eyes to the empty plain.
“She is safe. I would know what manner of reception we might expect before I accept your invitation, your Grace. If we are no longer welcome here, then we would not impose on your hospitality.”
“This is my castle, Father!” Il Dolce Mio stepped in front of the horse. “You are always welcome here, but I wonder if the baby’s mother would be welcome. Surely you do not mean to bring her within these walls?”
Lucio lowered his eyes to the elven King.
“If my son’s mother is not welcome, then I cannot come in, your Highness,” Lucio shook his head. He had not expected this from the King. He wondered what had happened to the Royal Sister thing. Il Dolce Mio had always shown the greatest respect for Nicole Ramsay, whom he considered his sister. “This is her son and I would not be separated from them.”
“That is a sore problem, Father.” Il Dolce Mio’s eyes narrowed.
“I can offer you no more than the King,” d’Brouchart’s voice drifted down to him. “I am his guest as well. But can we not sit down and talk about this? We would welcome you back to the fold, Golden Eagle. Your place on the Council remains. You belong with us. Bring the babe inside and give him over to the women so that they may care for him properly.”
“I cannot accept.” Lucio shook his head and pulled on the reins of the horse. He kept his eyes on the elf. He did not understand what had happened here. In his heart, he had expected this from the Master, but the elf….
“Father!” Simon touched the Master’s arm. “We can’t turn them away! Surely there must be…”
“This hall does not belong to us, my son,” d’Brouchart told him in a low voice. “Montague has reason to suspect a conspiracy here. You saw who he rode in with.”
Luke Matthew had ridden on under the portcullis through the inner gate into the bailey. When he saw that Lucio had not followed him, he circled through the inner bailey and returned to the outer bailey in confusion. He reined up next to Lucio and looked up at the face of the Master and the others gathered there.
“Your Grace!” He shouted. “We have no time for this! I have important news. We must call a Council meeting at once. There are decisions to be made.”
“Your royal nephew has denied the child’s mother entrance to the keep.” D’Brouchart spread his hands in front of him. The murmur of voices from the people crowded about the gate and on the walls grew a bit louder. “The Golden Eagle will not enter. What do you suggest, Brother?”
“Dammit!” Luke cursed and kicked his horse and rode in a tight circle around Lucio, who sat frowning darkly with the baby clutched against him. Luke was beside himself. He did not understand. Here was his Brother, pleading for help for an innocent child. What was this?
“What is this?” Luke looked down at the elf. The diminutive king crossed his arms over his chest and stood his ground.
“My father wants to bring this child’s mother into my castle. I cannot allow it.” Il Dolce Mio shook his head and flower petals drifted to the ground. “She is evil beyond evil. My keep could not contain her. She would destroy us all.”
“Whattar ye talkin’ aboot?” Luke was flabbergasted.
“I cannot allow it!” The elf tossed his head again. A mixture of anger and sadness clouded his childlike beauty.
“Brother,” Luke addressed the Golden Eagle. “Come inside and let us hash this out over a glass of wine. There is some mistake here. Do not do anything rash. We have serious problems that cannot go unattended.”
“No,” Lucio refused. “I cannot leave my wife alone. The dragon. If I go in, I will not be allowed to leave again.”
“Then tell me where I can find you. I’ll speak on your behalf and then bring you word,” Luke lowered his voice. “There is something here that is not right. I will see what goes and come to you tonight.”
Lucio looked about nervously. Hundreds of eyes were turned on him.
“I can’t do that.” He pulled on the reins. “It is quite obvious that something is sorely amiss here and I see the problem standing on the wall!” He looked up again at the Grand Master. “This is d’Brouchart’s doings. He is afraid that we would stand against him in Council, Brother. Some of us may not be so agreeable concerning his appointment to replace your brother. Yes, I have heard this. He has perpetrated a coup. I will not be a party to his treacheries. He never forgave your brother for taking the Order from him. He never cared for Mark Ramsay and he does not care for you or me. Watch your back, Brother, or you will find a dagger there and your head in a box. He has even poisoned the King against his own sister.”
Lucio yanked on the reins and headed back toward the outer gate.
“Father!!” Galen broke away from Louis Champlain and began to run toward the outer gate after his father.
Lucio glanced back at him and hesitated. He stopped the horse and waited for the boy.
“We can’t let him go!” Montague cried urgently and grabbed d’Brouchart’s arm. “We don’t know what this is all about! Stop him!”
D’Brouchart frowned.
Lucio rode the horse in a tight circle as Galen rushed toward him, calling his name desperately.
The Master hurried down the steps after the Seneschal.
((((((((((((()))))))))))))
Andrea knew something was wrong. She had ridden halfway across the plain in spite of the exposure and Lucio’s warnings. She could see many people on the walls. Paddy Puffingtowne came riding toward her on his small gray pony. He was waving frantically to her. She pulled up hard next to him and he pressed his hand over his heart.
“Lucky’s in tribble!” Was all he got out of his mouth before she was off again, slapping the reins against either side of the horse’s neck. “Wait!” Paddy shouted but it was too late. The great stallion put the pony in the dust, leaving the clurichaun far behind him.
She was close enough now to see Lucio as he swung down out of the saddle just inside the ruined gate in the outer ramparts of the keep. She could see Galen Zachary’s shining blonde hair as Lucio bent to hug his son to him. She could see beyond the Italian Knight to where several more people were running toward him.
“Lucio!” She shouted at the top of her lungs, but he could not hear her. She was too far from him.
Lucio rose up and looked back toward the second wall. Montague and de Lyons and three of the Templar soldiers were running toward him.
“Go on now, Galen. I’ll be back for you!” He told his son and quickly mounted up again, holding the baby in one arm. He turned the horse and kicked the stallion to a gallop. Precious time had been lost and he sensed the others pouring through the inner gate now. To his surprise, he saw Andrea riding full tilt toward him across the plain.
“Papa!” Galen shouted at him. He looked over his shoulder in time to see de Lyons pulling Galen’s bow from the boy’s shoulder. Lucio did not understand, at first, what was happening.
De Lyons grabbed a handful of arrows from the confused boy’s quiver and bounded up the stairs to the ramparts of the second wall. Lucio had cleared the gate and was riding toward Andrea as she shouted to him, pointing at something behind him.
Lucio turned slightly in the saddle and looked back at the wall. The Knight of the Sword was nocking an arrow in one of the long, elven bows. Were they really going to shoot him? He kicked the horse again and veered to the right. One of the arrows zinged past the horse and stuck in the ground. Yes, they were shooting at him! He couldn’t believe it!
He veered again to the left and felt the second arrow as it narrowly missed his leg, coming close enough to rip the fabric of his pants.
“Santa Maria! Go back!!” He shouted at Andrea. “Go back!!” He raised his free arm to wave her off and was amazed to see another arrow strike his forearm, passing completely through it. At first he felt no pain and things seemed to move in slow motion. Andrea was on a collision course with him now. If he fell from the horse with the baby, he would kill it and most likely himself as well. He lowered the injured arm, ignoring the burning pain that was beginning to make itself known and pulled on the reins, trying to stop the stallion as it thundered across the plain, throwing up great chunks of turf. Andrea had passed him and was coming about behind him.
The stallion slowed his pace very quickly, almost throwing the Italian over head, but the Golden Eagle managed to stay in the saddle as the pain from the arrow registered with alarming intensity on his brain. The horse stopped and he threw his leg over the horse’s neck. The pain seemed disproportionate to the wound. He’d been wounded before and much worse than this. Black suns circled in front of his eyes. He had to get down before he fell on his son. His one thought was to get the child to Andrea when she passed him again, but she was stopping her horse as well. She drew up beside him and the gray stallion reared on its hind legs pawing the air at the abrupt and violent halt. Lucio pulled the wailing child from the sling and handed him up to her. She reached for the boy, but never made the connection as he heard the whining zing of a fourth arrow. The arrow struck her with a sickening thud. Lucio was knocked onto his back as the woman fell from the horse, striking him a glancing blow on his left shoulder. He heard himself screaming ‘No! No!’ over and over as he climbed to his feet, still clutching the crying baby in his good arm. The pain from the arrow was almost unbearable, a hot searing streak ran up his arm and seemed to wrap itself about his heart. He could not feel his hand or his arm.
The Golden Eagle dropped to one knee beside Andrea, who lay face down in the grass. The arrow had struck her lower back. A dark stain marred the bright red surcoat she wore over her blue shirt and chain mail. The narrow tip had pierced the mail! An elven weapon of great strength. She reached one hand back, seeking feebly for the arrow and then lay still in the grass. The two horses pawed the ground as they circled the downed riders. Many people were converging on them now, but Lucio did not see them or hear them as he laid the baby on the grass and tried desperately to pull the arrow from her back. The pain in his own arm was unbearable. He saw stars circling the black suns in front of his eyes and then the face of Paddy Puffingtowne and nothing more. For a few moments, he heard his own heart pounding in his ears and then that, too, faded.
Luke Matthew made it to the scene on his white stallion just after the clurichaun. He surveyed the scene in shocked horror and then looked back at the keep where de Lyons was still standing on the wall with the bow in his hands. Paddy was on the ground with the two injured people. The baby’s cries were pitiful now as the clurichaun picked him up and cradled him against his shoulder. Paddy stood looking up at Luke Matthew in disbelief.
The Knight turned his horse and rode back toward the Grand Master with his sword drawn. D’Brouchart stopped at the menacing sight of Mark Andrew’s brother dressed in the full regalia of a battle ready warrior. Shouts of alarm went up around him and the small group began to disperse in all directions, running from the Knight bent on murder. Simon stepped in front of his father as the enraged Knight bore down on him. Luke brought his horse to the ground and tumbled off of him as he fell. He rolled away from the horse in the grass and came up in front of Montague. The Knight of the Holy City drew his own sword and squared off with the Knight.
Luke Matthew bellowed something at the Seneschal and charged him with the broadsword over his shoulder. Montague sidestepped the deadly blow aimed at his head and Luke’s momentum took him past the Seneschal. The blade of his sword struck the ground. He rose up again and turned, but he never had the chance to deliver a second blow as Barry and Louis Champlain tackled him from behind. Louis pinned him face down on the ground while Barry disarmed him. He lay with his face in the grass shouting curses at them and something about the dragon and Lucio’s soul.
Upcoming Sale
As soon as the Amazon meatgrinder publishes my latest release, I will be able to offer the first two volumes of the Assassin Chronicles for a discounted price of $3.99. That is two dollars off the price of buying them separately. That would be Book I:. The Knight of Death and Book II:. The King of Terrors.
I'll be back as soon as it clears the chute to let everyone know it is available.
I'll be back as soon as it clears the chute to let everyone know it is available.
August
The first book of the Assassin Chronicles went free on the first of August and I gave away a little short of 12000 copies during the month. On Sep. 1, the price went back up to $2.99 so I put book number three The Head of the Crow on sale for $.99 in appreciation of the <12000 people who downloaded the book.
I am anxiously awaiting comments and reviews and have mixed emotions about giving that many books away. It was fascinating however to what the number grow by the minute for the first few days.
How wonderful it would be to someday have those numbers grow again, but for paid works.
I'm not one to publicize my sales, but they are not too shabby. I'm not an Amanda Hocking by any means, but neither do I have vampires in my books (except one or two) and I don't have orcs or werewolves or zombies, but I do have fairies, dragons, djinnis, the un-dead, the UNCREATE and a lot of mythical, mysterious, mystical stuff that will give your brain a work out.
I have noticed, however, that people either love my books or they hate them. Not much middle of the road here.
So I'm off to a good start in September and I'm working on a new series called Apprentice Diaries, roughly based on the Assassin Chronicles, which will be aimed at a younger (YA) audience.
So here's to a great September, hoping for lower temps, more rain and a lot more sales.
I am anxiously awaiting comments and reviews and have mixed emotions about giving that many books away. It was fascinating however to what the number grow by the minute for the first few days.
How wonderful it would be to someday have those numbers grow again, but for paid works.
I'm not one to publicize my sales, but they are not too shabby. I'm not an Amanda Hocking by any means, but neither do I have vampires in my books (except one or two) and I don't have orcs or werewolves or zombies, but I do have fairies, dragons, djinnis, the un-dead, the UNCREATE and a lot of mythical, mysterious, mystical stuff that will give your brain a work out.
I have noticed, however, that people either love my books or they hate them. Not much middle of the road here.
So I'm off to a good start in September and I'm working on a new series called Apprentice Diaries, roughly based on the Assassin Chronicles, which will be aimed at a younger (YA) audience.
So here's to a great September, hoping for lower temps, more rain and a lot more sales.
New Series
The Apprentice Diaries, a new collaborative series by myself and D'Lani Elliott, is on track for a very near Halloween publication on Amazon. The books will be aimed at a YA audience, but will follow the original Assassin Chronicle Series fairly closely in some instances. The series may answer some questions for the readers of the Assassin Chronicles concerning the adventures from the point of view of the younger members of the Order of the Red Cross of Gold.
Have a wonderful Halloween!
Have a wonderful Halloween!
Sample Sunday ~ March 18
I have a couple of reviews noting that The Knight of Death is not truly representative of the fantasy genre. I'm thinking the notion may stem from one or two things. The first being that the book starts off an epic series and it deliberately starts the action off rather slowing, dealing with mysteries, lies, deceit and a number of modern trials and tribulations that might happen to almost anyone. As the book progresses, the truth of the situation unfolds and the reader is slowly drawn into the realization that not everything is as it seems. There is something truly mysterious and other-worldly about the protagonist, Sir Mark Andrew Ramsay. Nor is everything quite right about his so-called "Brothers" of the Order of the Red Cross of Gold. Although, they have apparently been around for a long time, the fact of their humanity or their humanity-affected existences have given them all the right and privilege to make all the mistakes that mortals make. Any reader with insight into mythology will remember that the gods and the supernatural beings of old had numerous nasty habits and made profound mistakes. Being immortal does not make a man smarter, nor does it make him greater than the heart that beats in his chest.
Here's a small excerpt with a hint of the supernatural, or if you prefer, fantastical element exposed.
"The black stallion wandered aimlessly into view. The subdued light under the trees slanted through millions of translucent green leaves and the trunks of the trees cast deep shadows across the stream. Their gnarled roots formed fantastic shapes along the banks, piling up against one another in a slow, but inexorable struggle for space. A few yards upstream from where she waited, a graceful weeping willow of considerable age added mystery to the beauty of the backdrop against which the velvet animal assumed the proportions of a mythical creature. She half-expected to see wings on his back. The trailing tendrils of the willow partially obscured the dark rider atop the black horse like a living beaded curtain of light green.
He did not appear to be seated in the saddle, but rather perched precariously on top of the stallion. The horse moved out of the willow’s covering branches and she drew a sharp breath. She had followed the right man. He sat with his knees up, his head leaning into the horse’s neck. One pale hand was visible, entangled in the long mane while the reins dragged in the water. Was he dead in the saddle? Was that possible? The horse slowly made its way toward her until a break in the trees allowed the slanting rays of the morning sun to illuminate the area like a stage provided by nature and just for a moment, she thought she saw dozens of tiny green, yellow and blue orbs floating around him. Then the illusion was gone as the lights seemed to flee in every direction at the very instant she drew the breath. The horse took a step or two and then stopped.
The rider jerked slightly and the horse took another step or two and stopped again. Not dead. She watched in silent fascination as this process was repeated again and again. He wasn’t dead, nor was he quite asleep. It was unbelievable. He was close enough now that she could see narrow stripes of darkly glistening liquid running down the saddle and under the horse’s belly. This was the source of the spots that she had been following along the trail.
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B001J6ORUI
Here's a small excerpt with a hint of the supernatural, or if you prefer, fantastical element exposed.
"The black stallion wandered aimlessly into view. The subdued light under the trees slanted through millions of translucent green leaves and the trunks of the trees cast deep shadows across the stream. Their gnarled roots formed fantastic shapes along the banks, piling up against one another in a slow, but inexorable struggle for space. A few yards upstream from where she waited, a graceful weeping willow of considerable age added mystery to the beauty of the backdrop against which the velvet animal assumed the proportions of a mythical creature. She half-expected to see wings on his back. The trailing tendrils of the willow partially obscured the dark rider atop the black horse like a living beaded curtain of light green.
He did not appear to be seated in the saddle, but rather perched precariously on top of the stallion. The horse moved out of the willow’s covering branches and she drew a sharp breath. She had followed the right man. He sat with his knees up, his head leaning into the horse’s neck. One pale hand was visible, entangled in the long mane while the reins dragged in the water. Was he dead in the saddle? Was that possible? The horse slowly made its way toward her until a break in the trees allowed the slanting rays of the morning sun to illuminate the area like a stage provided by nature and just for a moment, she thought she saw dozens of tiny green, yellow and blue orbs floating around him. Then the illusion was gone as the lights seemed to flee in every direction at the very instant she drew the breath. The horse took a step or two and then stopped.
The rider jerked slightly and the horse took another step or two and stopped again. Not dead. She watched in silent fascination as this process was repeated again and again. He wasn’t dead, nor was he quite asleep. It was unbelievable. He was close enough now that she could see narrow stripes of darkly glistening liquid running down the saddle and under the horse’s belly. This was the source of the spots that she had been following along the trail.
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B001J6ORUI
It's Been a Long Time
Greetings Friends, Fans and Fellow Authors!
My last post was in 2016. A lot of things have happened since then. My personal obligations precluded writing for the last six years. So I've been on a requisite hiatus. I want to come back to the writing world, which I have missed tremendously, with a new start.
I published my first book "The Knight of Death" in 2008 shortly after the Kindle phenomenon was introduced to the world. Things were much simpler back then for Indie Authors. And there were infinite trial and error possibilities. Most were errors.
Prior to Kindle, I wrote my books in hopes of one day pursuing an agent and a publisher. I did have a little bit of success finding an agent, but he never could work a deal for me.
Then things began to change in 2008. Without the benefit of a professional editor, I published my books one by one with only Beta Readers. Since that time "The Knight of Death" has got to be one of the most edited and uploaded eBook ever written. I only just added a recent edition to that collection. Now I want to take the time to get back in the swim of things with an all new/all old effort.
I hope that you will be amenable to re-reading and if you haven't read, take up the series. I have a lot of good reviews here and on Amazon, though I don't know how I got them.
Take a new look at an old book.
Thank you so much for bearing with me.
The Knight of Death: The Assassin Chronicles
Working my way back
Fighting off depression and writer's block is tragic.
...more
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